We Never Left
by fjdisjcfc
Summary: October 31st 1981 - Lily and James Potter are murdered, leaving their son, Harry to face the world alone. Follow Lily as she watches her son mature and develop into a young man, trying to help him whenever she can.
1. October 31st 1981

With the coming of autumn, there was an explosion of colour in Godric's Hollow. Not only was the surrounding countryside carpeted in leaves of every colour - gold, scarlett, murky brown and dirty yellow - but the small cottages and shops in the village were soon adorned in decorations for Halloween. Outside every one of the cottages were carved pumpkins, peeping out of doorways and windows, while the shops put up banners and models of skulls, vampires and witches. A sign in the window of the village pub proclaimed that there was an _Halloween Fright Fest _all over the Halloween weekend.

One house, however, was different. One house didn't need to make up any stories of horror, or imagine ghouls lurking in the dark - for they had something far worse to worry about.

The Potters were very quiet and kept to themselves. Lily and James had moved there just over a week ago, with their young son, Harry. The couple had formed a close friendship with their neighbour, an odd old woman by all accounts. Her name was Bathilda Bagshot, and there was not a living person in the village who could remember a time before she had lived there.

Everyone in the village agreed that they were a private lot, and should therefore be left well alone.

"James! I'm just going to see whether Bathilda's alright. I haven't seen her for days! Do you want to come?" Lily called up the stairs.

"Not at the moment, sweetheart," James called back, sounding distracted. "Harry's trying to fly out of the window again!"

Lily smiled. James was always playing with Harry. Just last week, he had gotten hold of his father's wand and turned his cot into a sabre toothed tiger. It was fortunate that James was so good at Transfiguration, or all three of them would likely have ended up in the beast's stomach.

"No, not that way!" she heard a muffled shout from upstairs.

She laughed, pulled on a thin cardigan and left the house.

Outside, a bracing chill swept through her. Grimacing, she felt a light patter of rain on her skin. It was only eight o'clock in the morning, and not many people were out and about at this time. Somewhere by the church she saw two or three old women huddled over a grave, but there was nobody else… Wait!

For a moment, she could have sworn that she saw a figure, standing outside the church. A black robed figure. No. No. It couldn't be him. Not Voldemort. Not here. She blinked and looked again. There was nothing there.

"Honestly, Lily," she muttered to herself, exasperated. "No one can find us here…"

Still angry with herself for being so jumpy, she walked next door to Bathilda's house and knocked.

A few minutes passed before an anxious voice called from behind the door.

"Who is it? I warn you, I'm an old friend of Dumbledore's and he won't rest till I'm avenged!"

"Bathilda, it's Lily!" she replied, spooked by Bathilda's reaction to a visitor. Bathilda was the type of woman who was incredibly positive. Many times, when Lily had felt like everything was stacked against them, she would tell her she was being silly. In Bathilda's opinion, nothing could beat Dumbledore.

"Oh, don't be stupid!" Lily remembered her scolding. "I have more faith in Albus Dumbledore than I do fear for Voldemort. Now let that be an end to it!"

Slowly, the door creaked open to reveal Bathilda, looking dreadful. She was small and frail looking and her face was covered in tears.

"Oh," she sighed, sniffing. "It's you. I suppose you haven't heard the news then?"

"What news?" Lily asked, her stomach dropping. Her and James were isolated from the rest of the Order so that they couldn't be tracked down by the Death Eaters, so for them, news was hard to come by.

"Come in and I'll get you a cup of tea. This will be a bit of a shock." Bathilda turned round and walked back into her house, shaking slightly.

"_Expecto Patronum!_" Lily cast, sending her doe Patronus back next door to get James. Something told her that he should be here to hear this too.

Following Bathilda into her house, a horrible thought came to her. What if Peter had been murdered? He had been very quiet of late and she couldn't remember the last time he had been able to look her in the eye.

Bathilda's house was very old fashioned. It would have been cutting edge modern in the late 1920s, she guessed. Her kitchen was a naturally light room; great amounts of sunlight shone in through the large kitchen windows. In the centre of the room was a table set for three. As Lily sat down, Bathilda shuffled out from the pantry clutching a tin of tea leaves and a dozen biscuits.

Bathilda was obviously very subdued.

"Is it Peter?" Lily blurted suddenly. "Has Voldemort murdered Peter?"

"Peter? No, my dear," Bathilda replied her voice wobbling slightly, whipping her wand, and, in doing so, boiling the kettle. "The McKinnons were murdered on Sunday. A group of Death Eaters broke into their home and - and slaughtered them!"

At this, Lily gasped, tears already springing to her eyes. Marlene and David were old friends of Lily and James - Marlene had been a Prefect when Lily was a First Year, and had helped her stop a group of Slytherin's bullying her about her blood status.

"That's not all," Bathilda said, her eyes swimming with tears. "Gideon and Fabian Prewett fell to Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy and Voldemort himself just yesterday. It took three of the strongest dark wizards in Britain to defeat them. Albus says that Molly is distraught."

"No!" Lily wailed, tears streaming down her face. Gideon and Fabian were renowned for their strength - together they had held off Voldemort himself at the Battle of Ottery St. Catchpole. It was such a shock that they were dead.

Silently, Bathilda hugged her, patting her back reassuringly.

"Don't you worry, my dear," she crooned. "Their deaths will not be in vain. Albus will defeat him, you know he will."

Lily just buried her face further into her friend's shoulder, sobbing.

"Lily, what's wrong?"

Lily looked up, her eyes misty with tears. James stood in the doorway, his brow furrowed in anxiety. Harry sat at his feet, looking strangely solemn for a baby.

"The McKinnons and the Prewett brothers have been murdered!" Lily informed him.

She could tell that James was in shock. His face drained of colour and his back slumped; but he would never cry. He thought he was strong not crying, but Lily thought that was just stupid.

"Oh, love," James said after a minute, stretching out his arms for a hug.

Lily stood and embraced him. Hugging James was different to hugging Bathilda; with James she felt strong and loved. With James she knew that all would be fine, in the end. With James, she knew that no one could hurt her. Not even _him_.

She stopped crying immediately.

"I'll get him, Lily," James whispered in her ear, a fierce determination in his voice. "I'll kill him if it's the last thing I do. I swear it."

Darkness came early that night. In the village, children skipped through the narrow, cobbled streets, knocking on doors and shrieking in their singsong voices, "Trick or treat!". Warm, golden light spilled out of the village pub, from which you could hear music and the low hum of conversation. Jack-o-lanterns lit the village square, their faces leering out from the darkness.

But Lily and James were in no mood for festivities. Ever since they had heard the news, a hush had fallen over the house. James had wanted to go to the village pub for the party, but after hearing the news they had decided that they wanted an early night. After taking Harry to bed and tucking him in, Lily came down to find James sitting on the sofa, a glazed look in his eyes.

He looked up at her as she came in and she was surprised to see tears running down his cheeks.

"Lily," he said, reaching out a hand, a pleading look in his eyes. "Come here."

Dropping her wand onto the sofa, Lily, shocked, put her arms around James and patted his back as he began to weep onto her shoulder. She had never seen anyone cry like James did that night - she expected that it was because of the fact that he had held it all in, all these years, and this was the result. James was crying not only for Marlene, David, Fabian and Gideon, but for Alice and Frank Longbottom, Edgar Bones, Benjy Fenwick, Caradoc Dearborn, Dorcas Meadowes and every last muggle that had fell prey to Voldemort's sick, twisted agenda.

It felt like hours and hours, but it could easily have been seconds that Lily comforted James that night. He gnashed his teeth and screamed out, beat his chest and pulled at his hair, all the while rivers of tears cascading down his face. Eventually though, he calmed down, and sat, his head on Lily's lap, occasionally hiccoughing.

"James?" Lily said, breaking the silence.

"Wh-What?" James stuttered, looking up.

"I love you, you know that, right?"

"Of course I do," James said, sitting up and putting his hands on her shoulders. "And I love you too."

Lily kissed him gently on the mouth.

"Oh, well," She sighed, smiling slightly. "We're still here to carry on the fight, we'll get him good and prop-"

As she spoke her eyes wandered out the window, and something she saw there caused her to utter a single, horrified scream.

James whirled around, serious at once.

Walking slowly, arrogantly almost, past their garden wall was a black cloaked figure, a wand gripped in his long fingers. Voldemort.

"Lily," James said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Take Harry… Go! I'll hold him back! Go to Dumbledore!"

His face blanched in terror, yet his jaw was set in a way that allowed no argument. Giving her one last adoring look, he dashed from the living room to guard the front door.

"I love you," Lily called after him, as she climbed the stairs two at a time, not pausing for breath. If she could just get to Harry and get him out of the house, then they could Apparate far from here and get help.

Bursting into the nursery, Lily ran to the cot, pulling Harry into her arms.

"Come on, sweetie," Lily crooned, trying to smile for him. "We're going on a little holiday."

Downstairs she heard a high, cackling laugh and a scream. James. He was _dead_. She could scarcely believe it.

Pushing the grief out of her mind, she looked for a window, anything. There was nothing. With all her might, she tried to Apparate, but the protective charms that Dumbledore had placed on the cottage stopped her.

Lily knew what she had to do. Nothing except Dumbledore could beat Voldemort, she knew that well enough. But she was going to go out with a bang. The Potters would not be murdered that easily. Mustering herself, she reached into her pocket to find… Nothing. Kicking herself, she remembered leaving her wand on the sofa downstairs.

It was over. There was nothing she could do. Harry would die. She would die. James was dead. Carefully she put Harry back into his cot and stood facing the door, ready for what was to come.

The door flew off it's hinges, flying into the wall and splintering. The tall, black figure of Voldemort stood in the doorway, his wand outstretched, his face hidden in the shadowy folds of his hood.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" Lily pleaded, standing in front of her son.

"Stand aside, you silly girl," Voldemort commanded, his voice high and screechy. He took a step forward. "Stand aside now."

"Not Harry, please not Harry! Kill me instead, please not him!" She begged.

"_Imperio!_" Voldemort exclaimed, raising his wand.

A fog descended on Lily's mind. Happiness engulfed her, complete and utter bliss. She remembered nothing, she knew nothing except that she was so happy and fulfilled. Ah… But then, out of the fog came a voice.

"_Stand aside._"

Every fibre of her being said 'Yes, stand aside', but then she remembered something. Something from before. A face. It was small and pudgy, lips open in a giggle. Shocking green eyes stared out from under a tuft of jet black hair.

"NO!" Lily yelled, coming back to her senses and flinging herself at Voldemort. "NOT MY HARRY!"

A flash of green light.

Lily Potter died.


	2. Afterwards

A feeble mewling pierced the darkness.

Lily tried to ignore it, she really did. She wanted nothing more than for it all to end, for the darkness to take her away from everything.

But she couldn't.

Slowly, everything came into focus. The rubble and the splintered cot lay, broken and forlorn, under a deep blue sky, shot with hot pinks and gentle golds. Dawn was coming. How was she alive? Had she been knocked unconscious? The last thing she remembered was two words and a flash of green light. The Killing Curse. Voldemort. It was all rushing back to her. Trapped. James dead…

"HARRY!"

Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered her young son. When she had been attacked, he would have been completely alone, defenceless against the might of Voldemort. How could a baby have survived that?

Desperately, she scanned the rubble, but there was nothing there. Panicking now, Lily got down on her knees and tried to shift some of the debris. Her hands passed through the rock, like smoke.

For a moment, Lily just stared at her hand blankly. And then she realised. She was a ghost. Voldemort _had _killed her. Her first reaction was of despair - if she was a ghost then she was going to live forever knowing that she had failed her family. Then, hope. Eternity was long enough to get her revenge. If it took a thousand years, she would bring about Voldemort's death.

Oh, Harry, she thought, tears pouring down her face. What have I done?

And then she heard it again, the noise that had brought her back. The noise that she had forgotten until this moment. A feeble, gurgling cry.

Her heart leapt with joy. It was Harry, she knew it. He was _alive_. How didn't matter, just the plain and simple fact was enough.

The sound had come from a few feet away. Scrambling over to where she had heard the noise, Lily realised that even if she could find Harry, there was nothing she could do to heal him. In all her living years, she had never heard of a ghost performing magic. But luckily, Harry was barely hurt at all. No bruises or scratches or broken limbs - just a lightning shaped slash across his forehead. Merely looking at it told Lily that it would scar.

But the thing that troubled Lily was _how_._ How_ had Harry survived? If only she could have seen what had happened. She could imagine Voldemort standing over him, wand outstretched… but then what? What had protected Harry from Voldemort's powers? And more importantly, where was Voldemort now?

Lily knew that only extremely strong magic could shield against the Killing Curse, so, desperately, she racked her memory for anything to do with protective charms. Protego, of course, was the most obvious choice of shield, but that wouldn't stand against Voldemort. The Fidelius was a powerful protective charm, but that protected places not people…

Her mind went back to a hot summer's day, near the end of her seventh year at Hogwarts. She was meant to be revising for her NEWT which was coming up in two weeks, but the heat made it near impossible to concentrate.

"Now," Professor Flitwick, standing on a pile of cushions, squeaked. "As you know, we have recently been studying old magic - magic which can be performed without a wand and has been around far longer than you or I. So far we have done the Power of Smiling and Positive Thought and the Art of the Silvertongue. Some of you believe that old magic is weak and it's effects are small. You are wrong. The final branch is arguably the most powerful branch of magic known to wizard kind. The Power of Love. Now this probably won't come up in your NEWT but it is good to be well prepared."

The moment Professor Flitwick had said that it probably wouldn't come up in their NEWT, everybody's attention except Lily's returned to looking out of the window at a dozen first years who were feeding the Giant Squid breadcrumbs in the sunshine.

"The Power of Love, or sacrificial protection, is the most powerful protective charm a wizard can perform," Professor Flitwick began. "When performed correctly, it can protect it's target from poisons, blades and even the Killing Curse itself. Performing it correctly is the difficult part - in fact, in can only be performed under _very _specific circumstances.

"To perform the charm, you give your life for the person that you wish to protect. But it must be a person you love and you must have a choice as to whether or not you die. Also, the person you die to protect must live with a blood relative until the age of seventeen, or the charm will not work. By choosing to die, you place a special mark on the person that you wish to protect - this mark is what protects them from any dangers that they may encounter.

"Sacrificial Protection can be made useless in two ways - the person moves out of said relatives home or they turn seventeen, the wizarding age of majority. Now, lets get back to revising the aguamenti charm. Belby, I know you can't yet produce a clear fountain and the examiners will look for that specifically."

Lily came back to the present with a startling sense of clarity. Could it have been the Power of Love that had spared Harry from Voldemort? As far as she could tell, their circumstances matched the necessary ones. She loved Harry. Had she had a choice as to whether or not she was to die? "_Stand aside…_", she remembered Voldemort saying. She _had _had a choice whether she had lived or died. But why? Why would he not want her, Lily Potter, one of his enemies, to be killed? Mentally, she added that question to her "Must find out" pile and looked at the other criteria. Harry had lived with her and James for his entire life. But for the protection to last, Harry would have to live with Petunia and her husband; she couldn't imagine a worse place for her son to grow up. Grudgingly, she had to admit that Harry's safety was more important.

Now that she had the matter of Harry's survival cleared up, she knew that he would need help. Dumbledore should already be here - in case Voldemort had attacked them, he had placed a charm on the house which informed him if it was broken into.

But where was he?

Just when Lily was about to go and alert Bathilda, her prayers were answered. She heard a small _pop! _and then, suddenly, the giant form of Rubeus Hagrid appeared before her.

"Hagrid!" Lily gasped. "Harry… He's over there!"

Hagrid ignored her, his face pouring with tears.

"James," he said, his voice wobbling. "Lily!"

He burst into sobs.

After a minute, he calmed down, and raised his pink umbrella.

"_Homenum Revelio!_" he muttered.

Barely a second later, Harry began to blaze with a bright white light, drawing Hagrid's attention to him.

"Oh, thank God," Hagrid said, relieved. "Thank God!"

Fumbling about in his pocket, Hagrid strode over to Lily's baby and scooped him up in his arms.

"There, there, baby 'Arry," he said putting a dummy into Harry's mouth. "You're safe!"

Harry, who had been on the verge of crying when Hagrid had picked him up, calmed at these words, and looked up into the giant's face. Lily was astounded to see him so calm.

At that moment, Lily heard a low rumbling, a rumbling that was familiar. It was a sound she had heard many times before, a sound which heralded… _Sirius!_

It came out of nowhere, his motorbike, just dropping out of the sky and pulling up in front of Hagrid.

"Hagrid!" Sirius exclaimed, jumping from the motorbike. "What's happened? I just went to see Peter, but he was gone."

"James," Hagrid sobbed. "Lily… Dead!"

"No!" Sirius cried, shaking his head furiously. He looked exactly how Lily would imagine someone would look like after a Dementor's Kiss. Immediately, his face turned ashen grey, his eyes seemed to lose their sparkle. It was like his mind and soul was dead but his body still living, still going though his best friends were dead. This was the first of many times that she wished she could touch. Sirius could do with a hug, and all of her maternal instincts cried out as she watched him weep. But her body was gone, destroyed, and she would never be able to hug anyone ever again.

"It's alrigh'," Hagrid said reassuringly. "Baby 'Arry survived, didn' 'e?"

Sirius calmed down, and looked up at Hagrid, his face wet with tears. Seeing Harry, his jaw set in determination.

"You're right, Hagrid," he agreed. "Give Harry to me. He's my godson, I'll look after him from now on."

"I don' think I can, Sirius," Hagrid explained. "Y'see, Dumbledore wants me to bring 'Arry to 'im. And he'll be safer with Dumbledore as well. I'm sure once everything's cleared up, 'e will go t'you."

"Yes, you're right again, Hagrid," Sirius said, realisation dawning in his eyes. "Take my motorbike, take Harry to Dumbledore, I won't be needing it anymore. There's something _far _more important for me to do."

"Don' you go doin' anythin' silly, now, will yeh?"

"No, of course not. Now get going! I'm sure Dumbledore is waiting!"

Sirius Apparated then, his expression grim.

Carrying her baby son in his arms, Hagrid mounted Sirius' motorbike and kicked off from the ground, flying east, towards the rising sun.

Lily, giving her ruined home one final look, followed.


	3. The Party

The sun was high in the sky when Hagrid began to descend. The giant motorbike, blatantly visible to any muggle who just looked into the sky, seemed to be heading for a small cluster of thatched cottages several hundreds of feet below. Judging from the unmistakable wizard fireworks and several shooting stars in the sky, Lily could guess that this was a wizard's house.

When Hagrid had landed, one of the cottage doors burst open and out came little Professor Flitwick, looking more than a little drunk.

"Hagrid!" he squeaked, swaying slightly on the spot. "Have you come to celebrate? The Weasleys, Lovegoods, the Diggorys and… well, others, are inside. "

"No, no, Professor, sir, I stopped to see what was going on," Hagrid said, seemingly with great reluctance. "I'm deliverin' baby 'Arry to Professor Dumbledore, sir!"

"Surely you can have a fire whisky or two?" Professor Flitwick asked, a sly smile touching the edges of his lips. "Dumbledore won't begrudge you the chance to celebrate on a day like this, now, would he?"

A great battle seemed to be going on in Hagrid's head. He kept glancing at the motorbike and Harry in the sidecar, then staring longingly at the thatched cottages, from which Lily could now hear bangs and excited chatter.

"Go on, then," he said at last. "Just don' tell Professor Dumbledore!"

"Don't worry, Hagrid, I won't."

Professor Flitwick disappeared inside.

Hagrid pulled Harry into his arms and followed Flitwick into the cottage. Inside there were at least sixty witches and wizards, which was a great feat considering that the cottage was very small. But they didn't seem to notice how cramped it was. Music was blaring out of the wireless, people were laughing and chatting and many young couples who had managed to get a corner to themselves sat in each others arms, snogging and whatnot.

Lily began to shake with cold fury. Why on _Earth_ were these people celebrating when she and her husband had been murdered, their son left an orphan? How could they do that on a day like this?

"So it's true, then," Hagrid asked Flitwick. "He's really dead?"

"Yes!" Flitwick answered excitedly. "He Who Must Not Be Named is dead!"

Lily could scarcely believe her ears. Dead? Voldemort? Surely not. The last time Lily had seen him he had been at the height of his power, preparing to kill her baby son. How could he have died in such a short time? She immediately assumed that Dumbledore had done it. No other wizard could be capable of wounding Voldemort, not to mention killing him.

"How?" she heard Hagrid ask.

"Nobody knows!" Molly Prewett had heard their conversation and had come over. "Some say that it was the boy, Harry!"

"Never!" Hagrid exclaimed. "Lil 'Arry? Kill Voldemort? I don't believe you, Mol!"

"Ask Dumbledore!" Flitwick squealed excitedly. "He told me just a few hours ago."

"Dumbledore sent me t' fetch 'Arry, but all 'e told me was tha' Voldemort was gone and 'Arry was alone!"

The conversation continued in a similar fashion, but Lily was too wrapped up in her thoughts to listen. Harry couldn't even control his powers, using them to kill the darkest wizard since Slytherin himself was out of the question.

The spell could have backfired of course, but that only usually happened with experimental spells, or when you tried to cast a spell that was too difficult. Voldemort would have used the Killing Curse dozens of times, so that was very unlikely.

Could someone else have done the deed? No. There was nobody else there that night.

She was stumped. Nothing she could think of could have resulted in Voldemort's death.

Molly Prewett suddenly interrupted Professor Flitwick, who was telling them how the Death Eaters had disbanded.

"Oh, God!" she whined, suddenly looking angry at herself. "I completely forgot! The Potters - James, Lily! Is it true Hagrid? Are they really… really… dead?"

Silence. The entire room had stopped laughing and chatting, and were now looking at Hagrid expectantly.

"Yeah." Hagrid admitted gruffly.

Some wailed, some whimpered, some were just silent, their mouths open in shock, but everyone was devastated.

One by one, each of the partiers approached Hagrid and leant over Harry. It was an odd procession - the wizards and witches, some short, some tall, some fat and some thin all formed a queue, waiting for their chance to see the baby boy who was their saviour. A few of them kissed him. Finally, there was just one wizard left. Lily knew him, but it took her a few seconds to realise who it was. Professor Slughorn looked _terrible_. Everything about him looked bleak, his eyes were empty, his moustache drooping. While Slughorn was normal, he seemed to dominate the room, both physically with his enormous girth and with his bubbly personality. Now he looked more like a lost ghost, grey and diminished.

Looking at Harry, the old man's eyes filled with tears.

"He has his mothers eyes," Slughorn choked. "I'm sorry, I… I just can't be here… Not when…"

With a faint _pop! _Professor Slughorn vanished. He had Disapparated.

Everyone went back to what they were doing before, though the atmosphere was noticeably more sombre than it had been.

"Poor fella," Hagrid muttered to Flitwick. "'e idolised Lily when she was at 'Ogwarts."

"We all did, Hagrid," Flitwick confessed. "She was the most talented student I ever taught. She was doing spells in her fourth year that even my seventh years struggled with. I saw Minerva as I was leaving the castle; she was beside herself with tears. And Severus…" he grimaced. "Well, he was obsessed with her whilst she was at Hogwarts and I think a part of him still was, even after she married James."

"Slippery little bugger," Hagrid growled, his face murderous. "He says 'e changed, but a leopard don' change their spots if yeh ask me! He'll get wha's comin' to 'im!"

"We'll see at the trial next month," Flitwick said darkly. "But I don't think he'll get off lightly."

"Good God!" Hagrid had just caught a glimpse of the sun out of the window. "It must be nearly six o'clock! Dumbledore wants to mee' me at midnigh'! I'll have to hurry if I'm goin' t' get there on time. Bye, Professor, I'll see yeh another time!"

"Bye, Hagrid!" Flitwick squeaked, already bustling off to speak with the Diggorys.

Outside, Lily could barely believe that how fast time had gone. Dusk was already falling, an eerie orange moon looking down on them from above.

Hagrid placed Harry gently in the sidecar and hopped onto the motorbike. Before he rose into the air, Hagrid seemed to look right at Lily.

"S'funny," he mumbled, his voice shocked. "Coulda swore I jus' saw… Nah, s'impossible."

He turned away from Lily and kicked off the ground rather forcefully, still looking quite shaken.

Lily stayed on the ground for a moment, thinking. Had Hagrid just seen her? Why, and more importantly, how had he seen her? Since she had awoke in the ruins of her house in Godric's Hollow nobody had been able to see her. But she was sure that, just a moment ago, Hagrid had looked right at her.

Hastily, she added it to her ever growing 'Must Find Out' pile and flew after Hagrid who had already become a distant speck on the darkening horizon.

As they flew, Lily couldn't keep from thinking about how people had reacted when they had discovered her fate. The way they wailed, and whimpered, and then she saw Professor Slughorn again - he had looked like a broken man. Had people really cared about her _that _much?

It must have been past midnight when Hagrid began to descend once again. This time though, it was over a neighbourhood which was vaguely familiar to Lily. She had been here at least once before, she was certain. The square, uniform houses with their perfectly manicured lawns stirred something in Lily's memories. And then she remembered - this was where Petunia and her husband (Was it Victor? Vincent? Ah, yes, Vernon!) lived. But why would Dumbledore be meeting Hagrid here?

The motorbike finally landed on one of the identical streets, which was empty apart from an old man and a stern looking woman in a witches hat. Of course, Lily recognised both of them instantly. It was Dumbledore and McGonagall.

"Hagrid," Dumbledore smiled. "At last. Where did you get that motorbike?"

"Borrowed it, Professor," Hagrid answered. "From young Sirius Black. I've got 'im, sir."

Hagrid picked up Harry, who was asleep, and handed him to Dumbledore.

"No problems?"

"No, sir."

Both Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore leant over the bundle of blankets to look at Harry.

McGonagall caught sight of the lightning shaped slash across his forehead and went pale.

"Was that… Is that where…?" she asked, looking horrified.

"Yes, that is where Lord Voldemort's curse backfired," Dumbledore said. "He will have that scar forever."

"Can't you do something, Dumbledore?" McGonagall asked.

"Even if I could, I wouldn't," Dumbledore explained. "Cursed scars can be useful, you know. Personally, I have one just above my left knee that is a map of the London Underground."

Dumbledore turned towards a house which Lily thought was Petunia's.

"C-Could I say goodbye?" Hagrid whimpered.

Hagrid bent low over the little boy and gave him what must have been a very wet, scratchy kiss. When he straightened up again, he howled like a wounded dog.

"Hagrid," McGonagall hissed, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Be quiet! You'll wake the entire street!"

"S-s-sorry, Professor McGonagall!" Hagrid said, burying his face in a giant handkerchief. "It's jus' s-so sad! Lily - _hic _- James dead - _hic _- poor little 'Arry off ter live with - _hic _- Muggles!"

"Yes, yes, Hagrid, it's all very sad, but get a grip!" Professor McGonagall whispered. "And it's not really goodbye, is it? You'll be seeing him again soon enough."

"Yeah." Hagrid said, looking hopeful.

Dumbledore placed Harry on the doorstep of Petunia's house and gently placed a letter in the bundle of blankets.

For a moment, the three of them stood watching Harry intently.

"Well, Professor, I'd better be gettin' off," Hagrid said.

Still blowing his nose, the giant swung himself onto the motorbike and kicked the engine into life. With a roar, Hagrid rose up and flew off into the sky.

"I expect I'll be seeing you soon, Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore said casually.

But Professor McGonagall was gone. In her place was a cat, with markings very much like McGonagall's glasses around it's eyes. It gave Dumbledore a knowing look and stalked off down the street, soon swallowed by the blackness.

Dumbledore looked like he was about to follow her, but then he turned around swiftly and looked straight at Lily. By the look in his piercing blue eyes, Lily could tell that he could see her as clear as day.

"Lily, my dear," Lily could have sworn that a tear was falling down his cheek. "I expect you are very confused about tonight's events. I will explain everything. Well, as best I can, at least."

"Can you hear me?" Lily asked.

"I can only see your mouth moving," Dumbledore explained. "We can talk later. Meet me at Hogwarts, in my study. To get there, just think of a particularly vivid memory that you have of me. I will see you soon."

_CRACK!_

Dumbledore Disapparated, leaving Lily standing gawping.

Just a few minutes ago, she had been invisible, resigning herself to a life of boredom. Now, it seemed that Dumbledore could see her. Today was full of surprises.


	4. Dumbledore's Office

Lily closed her eyes and, all of a sudden, she was eighteen years old again.

She was late for Transfiguration, so she was running as fast as she could up the lawn. Running so fast, in fact, that she didn't see the Slytherins until she entered the Entrance Hall, where they were barely a foot away.

"Oh, look, it's Mudblood Evans," Mulciber sneered. "Don't let it touch you, it might have a disease!"

Lily glared at him. Mulciber was very short, at least as small as Peter, but he was strong, both physically and magically.

"Look, I don't have time for this," Lily sighed, trying to push her way through them. "I'm late for Transfiguration and McGonagall's going to kill me."

"Oh, you're not going anywhere," Mulciber blocked her path. "Come on boys, let's show her what happens to those who oppose the Dark Lord!"

Instantly, there were half a dozen jinxes hurtling at her. Taken by surprise, Lily's shield wavered and broke down at the first jinx to hit it. Her face exploded in pain so intense it felt almost like someone had poured liquid fire over it. Her vision blurring, she sank to her knees.

"Stop," she pleaded, her voice feeble. "Stop it…"

"We've only just begun, you pathetic little-"

Mulciber was cut short by roar of fury.

"Back away!" it cried, echoing around the entrance hall. "Back away from her!"

Lily, practically blinded from the jinxes, only heard what happened next.

The Slytherins started to gabble nonsensically, terrified. From the sound of their footsteps, a few had attempted a runner, but their footsteps were cut short by ear-splitting cracks.

"We'll have your wands for this! All of you!" the voice raged, coming closer all the time.

And then there was a low whispering above her. Lily couldn't hear the words, but she knew that it was a spell to heal the jinxes.

Slowly her eyesight began to return. Above her she could make out a blurry figure. And then it became a man. And then it became… Dumbledore.

His face was livid, but as he realised that Lily could see him, he smiled reassuringly, his eyes warm.

"Don't worry, Miss Evans," he said soothingly. "You'll be fine."

"They… jinx me… for… Voldemort…" was all she could manage; her body, though no longer covered in boils, was sore and aching.

Dumbledore grimaced.

"I expected as much," he said simply. "Professor Slughorn will be here shortly. Can you walk to the hospital wing, my dear?"

Tentatively, Lily placed some pressure on her leg and winced. One of the jinxes must have broken her leg, as it gave way immediately.

"Ah," Dumbledore said, prodding her leg with his wand. "It's been broken with mildly strong Dark Magic. You'll have to stay a night or two in the hospital for Madam Pomfrey to fix it properly."

With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore had summoned a stretcher and levitated Lily onto it.

"I'll be up to see you later, Miss Evans."

Dumbledore turned back to the Slytherins, who, to Lily's amusement, were tied up and gagged.

"That was you're last chance, all of you," Dumbledore stated calmly. "I told you after you cursed Mr Pettigrew that any more attacks on my students and you'd be expelled. And besides, I think it's clear to who your allegiance belongs, don't you?"

Mulciber had only just begun to stutter an answer, when the stretcher began to ascend the stairs.

Even though her leg was throbbing violently, Lily had wished she could have heard the Slytherins' excuses - she could have done with a laugh.

And then, Lily opened her eyes… To find herself standing before Dumbledore's desk.

The man himself sat behind it, leaning back in his chair looking thoroughly exhausted. He gave her a weak smile as she appeared.

"So, Lily," Dumbledore greeted her. "Today has been very eventful. The truth of said events, however, is very hard to understand. If you will bear with me, I will explain all that I know for sure."

Lily nodded.

"But first we must learn to communicate. Of course, the magic which we are about to attempt has never been performed before, our situation being a rather unique one. If you wish to speak with me, you will need to speak through me. It works like this."

Dumbledore pulled his wand out of his robe, holding it firmly in his long fingers. He placed his other hand onto the desk.

"Now, place your own hand onto mine." Dumbledore instructed.

Reaching forward, Lily placed her hand onto Dumbledore's… and immediately pulled it back again.

In the split second in which Lily had had her hand on Dumbledore's, she had felt him. Not just his skin, but everything underneath. It felt like their minds had touched. Lily had never felt anything like it. Every aspect of Dumbledore, from his life to his thoughts, to his secrets, to his opinions had been open for Lily to browse at leisure. Lily knew that this connection would probably work two ways.

"That was something I didn't expect," Dumbledore frowned. "Perhaps we should make an agreement, yes?"

Lily nodded.

"I will agree not to browse your private thoughts and memories, if you in turn do not look at mine. You agree?"

Lily nodded again.

"Good," Dumbledore smiled. "Now place your hand onto my own and try to cast the Patronus Charm. You know how to make them speak."

"_Expecto Patronum!_" Lily exclaimed.

Immediately, her doe patronus erupted from the tip of Dumbledore's wand and, in Lily's voice, said "Like this?"

"Exactly like that," Dumbledore beamed. "Now, I ask you to be silent whilst I explain everything. Afterwards, you are free to ask any questions you may want."

Lily nodded, eager to hear what Dumbledore had to say.

"Lets see… Where do you start, with something as complex as this? The prophecy, yes," Dumbledore nodded. "As you know, when Sybil Trelawney applied to join the staff here at Hogwarts she made a prophecy predicting that either Harry, your son, or Neville Longbottom, Frank and Alice's son, would be the one to finally kill Lord Voldemort. Now, that night, there was an eavesdropper outside the room. Up until now, I have not revealed the true identity of the eavesdropper to anyone - but now I tell you. It was Severus Snape who overheard the prophecy that night."

Lily hissed in rage.

"He ought to die!" the voice that came from the doe was not at all like Lily's - it was cold, cruel, vicious. "He ought to die for what he's done to my family!"

"You do not understand, Lily," Dumbledore looked at her calmly over his half moon glasses. "This was when Severus was loyal to Voldemort - he did not know that the prophecy referred to you and James, or Frank and Alice - what did it matter to him if some faceless, unknown family were murdered, if it meant he would gain favour with his master?

"When he realised how Voldemort had interpreted it, he hastened to me to beg my help. It seemed to him that if I wanted to, I could protect your family, and more specifically you, from Lord Voldemort indefinitely. Evidently, he placed his faith in the wrong person. He also asked Lord Voldemort to spare you, which I believe he tried to do?"

"Yes, Professor, but why? Why try to save me?"

And, to her dismay, Dumbledore smiled.

"Alas, love once again proves to be a greater magic than all of Lord Voldemort's powerful, but frankly quite vile, curses and enchantments. You remember your close friendship with Severus when you were a child?"

Lily nodded. Of course she did.

"Well, Severus never quite forgot that sweet, kind young girl that he used to lay with beside a pond, while the snow fell around them. He never stopped loving you, even when you married the man he despised above all others. He never forgot what a precious person you are, Lily Evans."

For a moment, Lily felt like flinging the table at Dumbledore, and screaming and shouting at this foolish old man for his trust and his willingness to see the best in people. Of course Snape hadn't left the Dark side - no one did, not now, not ever. How could he be so stupid?

But Lily forced herself to be calm.

"You believe this story, do you, Professor?"

"I trust Severus Snape completely." Dumbledore's voice was gentle, but firm.

"Okay."

Lily still wasn't convinced, but that didn't matter now.

"Now, we return to the night of your's and James' murder - I have to ask you something, my dear - who did you and James give the role of Secret Keeper to?"

And then Lily realised - she had been so busy pondering how Harry had survived and how Voldemort had died, that she had completely forgotten the most important aspect of it all - how had Voldemort found them?

Anger rose like a black tide in Lily one again. Wormtail, the man who James and Lily would have given _everything_ had sold them and their infant son to Voldemort. That pathetic, cowardly little -

"It was Wormy," Lily said sharply, her voice shaking with rage. "We thought… we thought Voldemort wouldn't expect us to give such a big responsibility to him. And we shouldn't have - he betrayed us, didn't he?"

"It does, indeed, look that way," Dumbledore gazed at her sadly. "In a few hours, I will Apparate to the Ministry and explain to the Minister the truth of the matter - for now, I shall search for Mr Pettigrew myself. Hopefully, I should be able to catch him and have him in Azkaban by tonight. For now, you should return to your sisters' - Harry will need you. You can do it the same way you got here - just think of your most vivid memory of her.

"Now, I must leave to find Peter - with every passing moment our chances of catching him thin." Dumbledore stood up. "Goodbye for now, Lily. I will see you again later today, and I will explain the rest, as well as answering any questions you may have." Dumbledore swept over the other side of the office and opened the door.

Lily closed her eyes.


End file.
